


Sonó un Beso

by 823freckles



Series: Bleed to Love You [16]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/823freckles/pseuds/823freckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter has a cold, and Alana takes care of him.</p>
<p>Day 18 of 30 Days of Hannibloom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonó un Beso

**Author's Note:**

> Are you following me on tumblr yet? Why not? Go follow me so I can follow you back! I’m 823freckles.

“Alanaaaaa!” 

Alana stopped stirring the cup of tea she was preparing for Hannibal and winced. “I’ll be there in a moment!” she called back.

She sighed. Hannibal was sick, and he was being, in Alana’s opinion, a giant baby about it. He had a cold, but he was acting like he was dying of something incurable and intolerably sufferable. He claimed that he never got sick, and he was sure acting like it.

Alana stirred a spoonful of honey into his tea. Then she grabbed a book from a shelf downstairs, then walked up the stairs to Hannibal’s bedroom.

He lay in bed, his head propped up on two thick pillows. The covers were pulled up to his chin. Next to the bed was a wastebasket, filled to the brim with tissues. Alana placed the steaming cup of tea next to him on the bedside table, then picked up the waste basket to empty it. He sniffed, his nose obviously red and sore. “Thank you.” It came out like “dane kou.” Alana smiled to herself. If she were being honest with herself, she liked her role of nursemaid. It reminded her of medical school in a way, being a grunt, caring for the sick. And it was Hannibal, and she loved him. She didn’t like seeing him not feeling well, but conversely, it was amusing to see him one down, needing her in such a way.

When she returned from emptying his wastebasket, she climbed into bed with him. His tea stood untouched and cooling on the table. “Are you going to drink your tea?” She asked him.

“I can’t smell it. I can’t smell anything,” he complained. His voice was slurry and congested with sick. His eyes were rimmed red, it made him look strangely both demonic and angelic at the same time. Alana felt a surge of affection in her heart for her man. She knew how much his sense of smell mattered to him. His sense of smell was amazingly precise; he could even smell patients at times and know their affliction, a trick that came in handy both in school and in practice. 

She leaned over him and carefully lifted the cup of tea. She inhaled, and said, “It smells of jasmine, dry, and camomile. I added some honey for sweetness. Now drink.” She lifted the cup to his lips and he sipped it obediently.

He swallowed, then stared at her. He looked so grateful that Alana felt uncomfortable. “You baby,” she called him with affection to break the mood.

“That was rude, Ms. Bloom,” he chastised her.

Once she figured out what he said, she responded, “I know. I’m sorry, sick-o. I like taking care of you.”

He quickly lifted a tissue to his nose and mouth and sneezed. Once he deposited the used tissue in the trash, Alana nuzzled him. 

“Don’t. I don’t want you to…sniffle…get sick.” 

She shushed him, and moved even closer. She could feel him stiffen against her, then finally, he relaxed. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead, then picked up the book she’d placed down. He noticed it for the first time, and asked her what book she had brought.

“ _Rimas_. Bécquer. Spanish poetry for a change.”

She started to read. When she got to “Sólo sé que nos volvimos los dos a un tiempo, y nuestros ojos se hallaron ¡y sonó un beso!” she stopped to give him a kiss on his cheek. Then she continued. “Creación de Dante era el libro; era su Infierno…”

She watched as Hannibal closed his eyes and listened to the soothing lilt of her voice. When she finished the book, she closed it. Hannibal opened his eyes and spoke.

“I want to take you away. Have you been to Spain? I imagine you would…achoo! I imagine you would be enamored of it. Next week. Come with me, my dear.”

Alana took a minute to puzzle out what he said; it was hard to understand him with his cold and his accent combined. It sounded like he said, “I wan tage ou way. Hab ou beem to Spame? I imabgin ou woolbe namour ub it." Alana couldn’t help but giggle. She placed the back of her hand on Hannibal’s forehead. “You don’t feel like you’re running a fever, yet you’re speaking as if you’re delirious.” 

She started to pull her hand away and he captured it in his. He kissed the back of her hand, then turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I am not delirious. Will you come with me?” He looked up at her, his lips still hovering over her wrist.

She thought he was crazy. She loved it. “Yes.” And a kiss was heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Spain? :D


End file.
